


Love Us

by littlestdeath



Series: Love Me, Love You [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Body Horror, Boypussy, Fluff, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 03:04:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4163247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlestdeath/pseuds/littlestdeath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eventually the Sheriff waves his son off, one-hundred percent done dealing with his horny child anticipating getting some for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Us

**Author's Note:**

> Long delay, but here is the second part. You'll see the series is complete, and that is technically true. I consider it to be a complete work, but frankly I may come back and write some more for it if inspiration strikes or I get a nice suggestion in the comments.
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy!

They don’t get to have that coffee date.

Pixies, man. Fun suckers.

Instead they make out in Deaton’s supply closet while the good doctor is busy rinsing hallucinogenic dust out of Scott’s eyes. Stiles counts it as a date because Derek drove him home afterwards.

That Derek did so only because Stiles’ Jeep was still making funny noises after bulldozing through a flock of Pixies and after dropping off a still half blind Scott first is totally beside the point.

The point is that he made out with Derek and felt his ass up a little and then got a good night kiss on his door step.

Fan-fucking-tastic, thank you very much.

 

^

 

Stiles stands naked in the bathroom with the lights off.

Deep breath in. Slow breath out. Deep breath in. Slow breath out.

He turns on the lights and looks in the mirror.

Brown hair, long enough to require styling. Amber eyes. Freckles. Pale skin, blemish free. Snub nose. Clean jaw line. Broad shoulders, almost fully grown. Symmetrical pectorals. Trim waist. Narrow hips. Strong thighs.

Vagina. With added pubic hair.

He picks up the unopened package of razors on the counter and breaks the seal. It takes him nearly twenty minutes of slow, painstaking work, some awkward bending and the embarrassing placement of a hand mirror. But at the end of it he can step into the spray of the shower for a quick rinse and it leaves behind a smooth mound of flesh.

He touches it, marveling at the silky feel of his skin. His eyes go lower. Does he dare…?

No one has to know.

Another fifteen minutes with a fresh razor and now his legs are hair free too. He rubs his calves together. His skin is so soft he can’t get over it. He eyes his chest critically and reaches for another razor. He rinses again. Long fingered hands touch himself all over. Chest and legs and fleshy mound. He’s smooth all over. Fresh. Clean.

He smiles at himself in the mirror. He feels good.

Stiles feels good about his body.

He picks up his cell phone from the sink’s counter and texts Derek-

 _I shaved it all off_.

He goes back to marveling at his own skin. He had thought it might look awkward, exposed. Naked in a bad way. But it wasn’t. The sight of his pink skin sent a flutter through his belly. He felt…pretty. His phone chimed with a text alert.

_All of what?_

Stiles snaps a picture and sends it. He bites his lower lip. His fingers stroke across the screen- _Do you like it_?

His phone rings; Derek’s name, number and face appear. He picks up.

“We are not sexting, Stiles.” Derek says with a sigh.

“Okay,” Stiles says and hangs up.

 

 

^

 

He was still naked, buried under his covers when his phone rang again. He almost decided not to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Stiles. Please. Forty-seven days, that’s all we have to wait before it’s legal.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry I cut you off. But Stiles I-” Derek’s breath stuttered, “I’m not that strong.”

Stiles takes a deep breath and firmly reminds himself that he’s read a lot of porn lately. Boypussy porn.

“Did you touch yourself when you saw the picture?”

“Stiles, please-”

“No, Derek, _please_.” He licks his lips. “Did it make you hot?” It comes out more pleading than he wanted it too.

The sound of Derek breathing. Then a faint hitch; surrender. “Yes. I touched myself.”

“ _Oh_.” His body lit up, on fire in a way it had never been before. The sight of Stiles’ body had Derek touching himself. Stiles pressed his fingers to his clit. He was throbbing.

“Are you touching your pretty cunt, baby?” Derek’s voice graveled down the line.

Stiles shivered. Okay. This was happening.

“Yes,” Stiles was nearly breathless. “Are you-?”

“Yeah. Hard for you, gorgeous.” Derek was panting. “Had to get my cock out.”

“Wanna taste it.” Stiles confessed, rubbing his nub. “Never tasted cum before. Want to know what it’s like instead. Wanna suck down your cock and drink what you give me.” The words were coming easily to Stiles, borrowed from the books he had read but expressing his own desires. Derek wanted him and that made him so hot he could barely stand it. He slipped two fingers into himself.

“Baby? You- Stiles did you mean to say- have you tasted yourself?”

“I was curious,” Stiles admitted, hand stilling between his thighs. He felt a little embarrassed now, a little ashamed.

“Tell me,” Derek begged, “Tell me about the time you tasted yourself.”

“ _Oh_.” Stiles’ hand started moving again. “I was- I was just figuring things out. Finding my g-spot.”

“You find it?”

“Yeah. Found it one day. Couldn’t stop. Came so much, Derek. I was so fucking wet all down my thighs. Ruined my sheets.” Stiles had three fingers inside himself now, his walls burning just a little with the stretch. “I was using my fingers, just like- just like I am right now- ngh-” Stiles hit the spot and shuddered.

“ _Stiles_ ,” a breathless moan.

“I was so sensitive. Couldn’t do it anymore. Had to take them out. I was going to- to wipe them dry on the sheet but I thought- I thought- I was just curious. I licked my forefinger.” Stiles pressed his thumb to his clit and rubbed. He choked on his breath before he could go on. “It was bitter. But, Derek, I was licking myself off my own finger. I had to- I touched myself again, made myself cum again. Couldn’t move I was shaking so bad.”

“Jesus, Stiles,” Derek sounded desperate. “I’ll come in your mouth, baby. I will. I’ll let you taste me as much as you want. Then I’m gonna taste you, baby. Shove my face right in your wet pussy and suck the juice right out of your little hole. Lick you off your thighs. Make you cum again so I can keep going. You like the sound of that, baby?”

“Yes! Derek, please, I’m gonna- oh!” Stiles’ orgasm punched through him. He couldn’t stop moving his fingers inside himself. Through the haze of his pleasure he heard Derek groan and realized he must be coming too. It was a long time before his breath evened out.

“You with me, gorgeous?” Derek’s voice was lazy and sated.

“Yeah. I’m here.” Stiles was close to slurring his words.

“How much porn have you read, Stiles?”

“A whole lot.”

“Send me your favorites. I’ll fuck you just how you want to be fucked for your birthday.”

“Yeah.” Stiles shuddered with want.

 

^

 

“Stiles, are you sure?” His doctor pressed her glasses further up her nose to peer at Stiles more closely.

“I’m sure.” Stiles’ hands were shaking just a little.

“Alright then, I’ll just hit the bullet points again. With your unique situation there’s always the chance something could go sideways; you stop taking the pills immediately if you think anything is wrong. Technically it’s only 99% effective, so if you choose to engage in sexual activity make sure you use a condom. And no grapefruit.” She set the prescription for birth control in front of Stiles. “Your regular pharmacy can fill this.”

They little scrap of paper feels heavier than it should.

“So,” the doctor said conversationally, “How long until the Sheriff finds out you forged his signature on those minor consent forms?”

“Twenty to thirty minutes depending on the traffic to the pharmacy.” Stiles grinned.

 

^

 

His phone rang just as he was stepping out of the drug store.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Son. Something you want to tell me?”

“I’m going to have sex with my boyfriend on my eighteenth birthday. Is it cool if we do a lunch celebration instead of our usual dinner? I want to get an early start.”

“Only if I get to meet him the next day.”

“Pretty sure he’s going to be too busy making me come all that day.”

“Fine. Once you’re too sore to go anymore, I want to meet him.”

A beat of silence.

“That was so gross, Dad.”

“You started it.”

“Lies and slander.”

“Do I need to give you the safe sex talk?”

“Nope. You covered it pretty well when I was thirteen.”

“Okay then. Good talk, son.”

“You too, Dad.”

They hung up on each other.

 

^

 

Ingrown hairs are the worst, Stiles decides.

Some research has him switching razor brands, swapping out his soap for proper shaving cream, and dedicating time to softening his skin with warm, damp towels. He spends a week awkwardly scratching at tiny bumps to get the hair follicles up above the top surface of his skin. It’s another week before he’s smooth again, and a second one before he’s convinced he’ll stay that way.

He considers finding a blog to bitch and moan on but doesn’t really want to have to pretend he’s a woman, or explain his genetic peculiarity to strangers on the internet. So he settles for sending Derek close up shots of the inflamed bumps and making all kinds of ridiculous demands for his pains in keeping ‘sexy smooth’.

The tub of caramel, chocolate, strawberry cream and fudge chunk ice cream that can only be found in a specialty ice cream shop eighty miles away makes Stiles burst out crying. He rewards Derek with an impromptu make out session after a pack meeting and promises him all kinds of filthy things until Derek pleads mercy and runs away with an awkward gait that accommodates the boner in his jeans.

Stile manfully resists the temptation to 'whack' one off there in the living room of the pack house.

It’s a near thing.    

 

 

^

 

Sixteen days out, Stiles curls up on his bed and refuses to move even when his phone rings.

An hour later Derek shows up at his window. If it had been anyone else, he would have said 'stomach ache'. But it was Derek, so instead he answered 'period cramps'.

Derek is noticeably silent. Stiles tilts his head to look up at Derek, absurdly worried and readying himself for rejection. But Derek is staring at him with a strange look on his face; the same look he had worn weeks ago after Stiles had stripped in his bathroom. He propped himself up on his elbow.

“What?”

“Period. You menstruate?”

“Yes. Does that,” Stiles squints up at Derek, checking to make sure he’s reading this right. “Does that turn you on?”

“You could carry my pups?”

“Oh my God,” Stiles grinned, “That turns you on!”

Derek knelt suddenly and shoved his face into the crook of Stiles’ neck inhaling deeply. “You’re _fertile_.” He whispers in an awed voice. Stiles’ heart flutters. Derek shifts up and sits on the bed next to Stiles leaning over him and cupping his face gently. He looks at Stiles like he’s the most amazing, most precious thing in all the world. His pupils are blown wide, his iris' tinged alpha red. Their mouths meet.

It’s a lot slower than any of the kissing they’ve done before. Stiles doesn’t even have to do anything. It’s Derek who leans down to meet him, who shifts the angle of their necks when it becomes painful. He kisses Stiles like he’s a treasure.

“So,” Stiles says a long time later, lips swollen, “You’re not weirded out by my bleeding from my boypussy once a month?”

“It’s a gift.” Derek says and nuzzles at Stiles’ neck, careful not to leave a hickey. “If you want to. When you’re ready.”

“You want kids.” It’s a statement more than a questions. Anyone with eyes could see that Derek wanted kids. He grew up in a big family and after the fire- well, anyone would want to rebuild.

“Yes. But Stiles, we’ve been dating for two months, if that. It’s not something we need to think about now.”

“Tomorrow is Sunday.”

Derek blinks at the sudden shift in topic. “Okay?”

“It’s the first Sunday on or just after my period. I can start taking birth control.”

Derek goes stiff. Then his breath hitches and he looks down at Stiles with a vulnerable and hopeful expression. “You’ve thought about this.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I have. Derek, I always thought-” his voice cracks and Derek cradles his head ever more gently. “I never thought I could have anyone at all. That I’d never have kids even though I wanted them. But I mean, Derek I’m not even eighteen yet. And I don’t know about us, about that far down the line, but I’m not stupid.” Stiles bites his lips. “Can you- you’re okay with waiting?”

“I’m okay with waiting.” He smiled, a little painful, but honest.

Derek turned them onto their sides and curled up behind Stiles, one hand stroking over the aching spot on Stiles’ lower abdomen, leeching away the pain.

 

^

 

They fell asleep that afternoon and neither of them ever knew that the Sheriff came home and found them. And that, after a brief pause to process, he sniffed the air for sex, checked the garbage cans for condoms just in case, and then left to consider the conundrum that was his son dating the man he had accused of murder twice.

 

^

 

It’s the day. It’s his birthday. And according to the period calendar app that Stiles downloaded to his smart phone the day he got his first period when he was fourteen, he was at a low risk of pregnancy. His nerves jittered terribly. Derek was in charge of the supplies. Stiles was in charge of deciding how it went down. (The innuendos available to him are often hard to resist. Ba-dum-cha!)

Birthday lunch with his father is excruciating and eventually the Sheriff waves his son off, one-hundred percent done dealing with his horny child anticipating getting some for the first time. Stiles laughs and promises to call his father later. His father grimaces and tells him to please, God, spare him.

So Stiles hops into his Jeep and heads over to the pack house. Once he’s in the preserve and away from any traffic, he pulls out his cell phone and calls Derek, planning on warning him that he’s coming over early.

Stiles doesn’t know if the call connected. Before he even lifted the phone to his ear, a swarm of darkness came out of nowhere, smashed through his windows and smothered him. He screams only once before he breathes in a dust that knocks him out.

 

^

 

Fucking Pixies.

 

^

 

Turns out, Stiles’ Jeep was responsible for the death of some heir apparent a few months back, and the Pixies were very unhappy. Enough so that they tried to drink all of Stiles’ blood in retribution. Derek showed up before they got too far along. But in the end, there was enough blood loss that Derek was forced to bring Stiles to the hospital.

Which forced them to bring the Sheriff into the fold.

Which made the Sheriff try to ground Stiles for life.

Which pissed Stiles off enough that he pulled the ‘I’m an adult now, and you are not the boss of me’ card.

Which resulted in a very uncomfortable, week-long feud between father and son.

Which required Melissa to get involved.

Which caused Stiles and Scott to realize a few things that were better left un-explored.

Which reminded Stiles, a week and a half after the fact that he and Derek hadn’t gotten around to having sex yet.

Which was a travesty.

And which brought Stiles to the pack house one night, opening the front door and declaring loudly, “Anyone who doesn’t want to listen to me and Derek having sex should leave. Now.”

The whole of the pack was out in two minutes flat.

Stiles threw himself into Derek’s arms and between hot kisses and fumbling hands asked, “You’ll still respect me in the morning, right?” He meant it as a joke, but Derek looked him right in the eye when he answered, “Absolutely”.

Stiles kissed him again.

 

^

 

Stiles sank down onto Derek’s cock and lifted again before dropping down hard, his wet cunt greedily eating the hard length. Stiles moaned in appreciation.

“Never got an angle like this with my dildos,” he babbled, mind half gone with pleasure. “Never felt like this, so hard and soft and thick. Jesus Derek, Derek, you’re filling me right up. So good. You feel so good.” Under him Derek, muffled curse and took hold of Stiles’ hips, gripping tightly in a way that indicated a need to anchor himself.

“Such a tight pussy. So hot Stiles, so hot that you have pussy. Nice and open for me. So good, baby. You’re mine, aren’t you? All mine. Every. Part. Of. You.” he punctuated each word with an upward thrust and Stiles met each thrust with a downward push, working his thighs furiously from where they rested on either side of Derek’s flexing hips.

“Derek, Derek,” Stiles cried out. “I’m gonna come. Please, please-” he didn’t know what he was begging for. Derek, shifted suddenly, bringing his knees up to support Stiles’ lower back and heaving to sit up so Stiles was cradled in his lap.

“Come for me, gorgeous.” Derek whispered holding Stiles tight to him. And Stiles did. He squirted all over Derek’s dick and thighs. Still in the stiff rictus of orgasm, Stiles was only peripherally aware of Derek coming too.

A little while later, after Derek had discarded the condom and Stiles had caught his breath, the thoroughly fucked boy lifted a hand and made a check mark in the air.

“Cowgirl positon – accomplished. Our next task – reverse cowgirl.”

“Maybe in the morning.” Derek agreed sleepily and rolled over to spoon Stiles.

“What? Out of stamina already?”

“Stiles. I’ve come four times. You’ve come five. We need to sleep at some point.”

“But, Derek, why sleep when we could be having more sex?”

“Because we’ll have better sex once we’ve rested. Sleep.”

“Spoil sport.” Stiles snuggled in.

“’Boy’.” Derek said suddenly a few moments later.

“Wuh?”

“Cowboy position, right?”

Stiles smiled wide and turned so he could tuck his head under Derek’s chin. “Yeah. Boy.”

“Sleep well, gorgeous boy.”

Stiles pressed a tiny kiss to Derek’s neck and closed his eyes.


End file.
